


Creative Accounting

by out_there



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-18
Updated: 2008-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"During the day, I file reports and at night, in my exciting moonlighting job, I'm an accounts clerk.  It's all a bit dull," Ianto says apologetically.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Creative Accounting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/gifts).



> Written for [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/)'s Taxfic challenge which... sort of didn't run this year. Thanks to [](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/) for betaing.

Ianto picks up his ringing mobile and flicks it open. "Hello?"

"Where are you?"

Even though he knows Jack can't see it, Ianto rolls his eyes. "I think it's customary to start with hello, Jack."

"You're not at the Hub," Jack says, ignoring Ianto's point, "and you're not at your place."

Scribbling on the pad in front of him, Ianto notes his progress so far. "And you know this because…"

"Because I was at the Hub, and I'm now in your flat. I picked the lock," Jack adds, making the confession sound like an afterthought.

"You remember there are spare keys in the employee files, right?"

"They're for emergencies. This wasn't an emergency. And I was bored." For all that Jack is an unknown number of years old, at heart, he's somewhere around six: easily amused, easily bored, and prone to sulking when he doesn't get his way. "Picking the lock was more fun."

"I'll be home in an hour," Ianto says, looking at the files in front of him. It should give him enough time to finish the current client and hopefully get most of the next one done.

"An hour?" Jack whines and Ianto feels himself smile.

"I'm sure you can think of some way to amuse yourself until then."

"Fine," Jack says and hangs up.

***

When Ianto lets himself in, the lights are off. He walks through his flat by memory, going straight to the bedroom. He's not surprised that Jack's in bed; he is surprised that the lamp's on and Jack's fast asleep with Ianto's sheets stretched across his bare chest.

It's a curiously endearing sight: Jack stretched out across Ianto's queen size bed, sleeping as if he hasn't a care in the world. Ianto strips out of his suit as quietly as he can and keeps sneaking glances at Jack's lightly curled fingers resting upon the pillow, Jack's slightly open mouth and closed eyes.

Despite Ianto's best efforts, Jack wakes up when Ianto slides into bed.

Jack hooks an arm over his chest and nuzzles sleepily against his shoulder. "What were you doing?" he asks around a yawn.

"Possibly there's a part of my life that doesn't revolve around you and Torchwood."

Jack snorts. "Don't think so."

Ianto's tempted to laugh at Jack's simple confidence, his surety that Ianto belongs to him and Torchwood, body and soul (and the fact that he's probably right). Ianto fights the urge by kissing Jack quickly on the lips but Jack kisses back with enthusiasm, clearly mistaking Ianto's intent.

Ianto doesn't mind, though. Not when Jack's nibbling on his lower lip and rolling over to slide a thigh between Ianto's legs.

***

Ianto isn't surprised to get a similar call the next night.

"Again?" Jack asks when the phone connects. "Not at the Hub, not at home?"

"Seems like it's turning into a habit," Ianto replies, ignoring the way his heartbeat catches when Jack so easily says _home_.

"If I was a less confident man, I might be jealous."

"Luckily, lack of confidence has never been one of your failings, Jack."

Jack laughs. "True. But you're disappearing for hours, refusing to tell me where you are. It's not a stretch to think you might be stepping out on me."

"Stepping out?" Ianto mocks, pinning his mobile against his shoulder as he stabs figures into the calculator in front of him. "Who says that?"

"I do."

"You were probably alive when it was still in common use," Ianto replies. He hits enter, records the total and then clears the figures from the calculator's screen. "But if it makes you feel better, I give you my word that I'm not _stepping out_ on you."

"When will I see you?"

Ianto sighs, considering. "It depends. Do you miss me, or do you just want some help with the budget reports?"

"Can't it be both?"

"In that case, not for a while. I'll be done by nine. I'll swing by the Hub and see if you've managed to stop procrastinating long enough to open the spreadsheets."

"Hey, it's not like I don't do my fair share of paperwork," Jack objects loudly. His voice echoes a little so he's probably standing in the Hub right now, far away from his desk and from the budgets. "It's just other things come up. Important things. Things that need to be done."

Ianto thinks of the last time the budgets were due. "Like shining your boots?"

"Well... that was only the once."

"I'll see you later," Ianto says and then hangs up.

***

When he gets back to the Hub, Jack's opened the first spreadsheet. And typed in three numbers. He's sitting diligently in front of the computer, but Ianto can see the minimised game of Minesweeper at the bottom of his screen.

Ianto takes one look at the haphazard pile of outstanding invoices and cheque stubs, and gestures for Jack to get out of his chair. "You're complete rubbish as an administrator, you know."

Jack smiles happily, standing up and relinquishing his responsibilities. "I know. That's why I've got you."

Ianto sits, closes the game of Minesweeper, and then starts sorting the pile into something workable.

"Since you're okay with that," Jack says, edging to the door, "I'm going to go down the shooting range and get a bit of practice."

"Complete rubbish!" Ianto calls out after him.

***

The next night, there's no phone call. It's a pleasant surprise, and Ianto takes advantage of the hours without interruption to prepare a small stack of forms ready for signature. He finishes, feeling very productive, and walks out of the office, locking the glass door behind him. He feels in his pocket for his phone and brings up Jack's number, wanting to check if they should meet at the Hub or back at Ianto's place.

He dials, and looks up at the sudden ringing across the street. Beside the dark SUV, Jack's standing in his coat and waving at Ianto with the bright display of his phone. He raises it to his ear and answers the call. "Hello."

"How did you--" Ianto starts and then pauses. "Did you triangulate the signal of my mobile to find my location?"

"No." Jack shakes his head. "I went the more old-fashioned way. I followed your car on the CCTV cameras and then came out here to wait."

"Just couldn't let it go," Ianto says, ending the call on his mobile. He looks both ways and then crosses the road.

It's too dark to judge Jack's mood, but Ianto can't help cringing when Jack says, "I don't like secrets. I especially don't like my team doing undercover surveillance without telling me. It's dangerous, Ianto, and I'd expect better of you."

Ianto feels his eyes widen in surprise. "I'm not undercover."

Jack raises an eyebrow, demanding an answer, but his tone softens. "It makes more sense than robbing a high street accountancy firm."

"It's my uncle's. When I first came back to Cardiff, before you agreed to hire me, I needed money and my uncle offered me a job. I'd just come from London and I'm good in an office, and it tided me over. Last week, one of the girls sprained her wrist and they're short-staffed at the moment, so I offered to help."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't about Torchwood and it wasn't about us, and..." He pauses, shrugging. "It wasn't like you needed to know. If there'd been an emergency, I was answering my phone."

"So you didn't have a reason to tell me." Jack steps closer and Ianto looks down, noticing the hem of Jack's coat caught in a short gust of wind. "What was your reason for not telling me?"

"Well... It's a bit mundane. During the day, I file reports and at night, in my exciting moonlighting job, I'm an accounts clerk. It's all a bit dull," Ianto says apologetically.

He feels a bit silly saying it. After working for Torchwood for years, feeding a pterodactyl and dealing with aliens -- and in his off-hours, shagging Jack -- he should be used to being the least interesting person in the room.

Maybe it sounds silly too, because Jack shakes his head and leans in for a soft kiss. "Trust me, you couldn't be dull if you tried."

Somehow, Ianto isn't surprised that kissing Jack makes it feel better. "There's a common preconception about accounting types, that they're..." He waves, letting Jack fill in an appropriate synonym for boring.

"Intense and deadly," Jack says seriously.

"What?"

"By the year 3000, the International Tax Agency is the highest Earth-bound authority. Under-declare your income, a taxation officer would take an arm or a leg in payment. Literally. You'd be lucky to walk again, unless you had a very good accountant on your side."

Ianto stares at Jack carefully. The trouble with Jack is that it's hard to tell when he's exaggerating for the sake of a good story and when he's telling the exact truth. Both sound equally impossible. "Are you joking?"

"I got stuck there for a few months. Started sleeping with an accountant," Jack says, with a fond smile. It's the type of grin normally reserved for sex, weapons or a combination of the two. "I saw her kill a man with nothing but a sharpened pencil."

"That's a joke," Ianto accuses wryly.

Jack shakes his head. "Absolute truth. Sharpened pencil, right through the eye. It was impressive."

Ianto can't help imagining it. "I didn't need a mental picture that graphic."

"There's something sexy about accounting," Jack continues, ignoring Ianto's squeamishness. "I think it's the long words. _Depreciation, accumulation, amortisation_."

Jack's voice is low and soft, catching on the s's as he slides a hand around the back of Ianto's wrist. There's a low warmth in Ianto's belly, but he knows the trick to keeping Jack interested is to make him work for it. "I don't see the appeal."

"The challenge." Jack steps forward, resting one hand possessively on Ianto's hip. "There's something very satisfying about making someone stutter halfway through _reconciliation_."

"By any means possible, I assume."

"Wouldn't be a challenge otherwise." Jack steps closer, thighs pressed to Ianto's own. Ianto needs to speak quickly or he'll end up pressed against the SUV while Jack tugs clothes loose. He remembers -- from last time -- how time-consuming it was to replace the CCTV footage.

"Why don't you come back to mine?" Ianto says as Jack drifts closer. "I could show you my tax rulings."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that sounds like a line to get me into bed," Jack says delightedly.

"Perish the thought," Ianto says, pulling the SUV keys from Jack's fingers and deciding to collect his own car tomorrow. "I only wanted to practice some creative accounting."


End file.
